Glued Minds and Steamed Tempers
by StainedWithBlackInk
Summary: <html><head></head>When one breaks, the other watches. When one fails, the other causes. When one screams, the other smiles. When one loves...what shall the answer be?</html>
1. Chapter 1

Walking slowly down the street, Shizuo blurred out the world around him. The people, buildings, and colors were all blending together to form a moving mass of irregular shapes and sounds. Only his person was discernible. Just like it always was, but lately…something else was beginning to join him in his bubble of obscurity. This disturbance came in the form of a swish of silky black tresses, a pair of smoldering ruby eyes…an all knowing smirk. It was _that __snake_. A man who has haunted him; he's haunted his thoughts since Shizuo was a child in high school. He had refused to leave Shizuo alone as soon as his penetrating stare had locked onto the blond. But never once had he invaded this small corner of Shizuo's mind before. It was a sanctuary that the ex-bartender relished in and was devastated the day it had been ripped apart.

At first, the fortissimo had no idea what to do about it except scream, chase, and launch objects at the dirty informant. Only when the chase ended and rage wasn't flooding his every cell did he actually sit down and think about it. Why now, was the flea able to remove him from his absent state? Why had Shizuo not immediately cared that he had joined him in his solitude? They were all unanswerable questions at the time and, for a while, nothing had changed after their little event that Izaya was ignorant too. The name calling, games, and death threats were still lively and well. That was…until one evening in March.

The layers of ice and snow had dissipated, but spring hadn't quite settled in yet. That night brought a cold, crisp wind and a storm so gentle that it was a wonder that thunder was rolling over such a light cast of rain. The unseen sun was setting and the world was taking on a blue-gray hue that seemed to suck away all other colors. Shizuo had just left Russia Sushi, so his clothes were marred by nothing except a few drops on his shoulders. He was passing the park near his home when something caught his eye. In the middle of the park, sitting on a bench, was Izaya Orihara. He was soaked to the bone and looked like he had no intention of leaving anytime soon. His elbows were draped over the top of the bench, framing his laid back head. His ebony hair was now ink black and plastered over his eyes. With his entire being darkened by the water soaking it, his fair skin looked completely alabaster in its paleness; a shocking marble color that was determined to stand out in the gray world that surrounded it.

What was he doing? Slowly the debt collector made his way over to his lifelong enemy and waited for his presence to be noticed. After five minutes of either ignorance or being ignored, Shizuo kicked the bench, "Oi, flea. What the hell are you doing?" there was no response besides a twitch of blue looking lips. After a couple more minutes Shizuo was starting to lose his thin patience and decided he was going to throw the bench along with the informant when Izaya's head suddenly slung forward to hang in front of his chest. The position made him look like he was being restrained like a prisoner. The sight didn't please Shizuo as much as he thought it would.

"Ne, Shizu-chan, what would you do if I disappeared? Would you jump for joy, cheer at the top of your lungs? Would you be happier, control your temper?" Shizuo looked bored to any outsider who may be watching, but inside he was a toiling mess of confusion. What was this nutcase talking about?

"…would you smile?"

That one finally broke through the mask that Shizuo had on. His eyes widened before his face scrunched up in a scowl, "Bastard, what the hell are you talking about, you disappearing? You're not going anywhere."

"You never smile. It's because of me isn't it? It's because of your hatred for me that somehow, is stronger than everyone else's. Haha…" the chuckle that escaped the now smirking lips sounded off. A little deranged even. Just what in god's name is this flea on?

Shizuo let out a harsh sigh, "You're not making any sense."

"I'm making PERFECT SENSE!"

Shizuo cocked an eyebrow at the exclamation. He'd never seen Izaya lose his cool before, so he came up with two possible explanations. One, the dirty bastard was high. That was totally probable, albeit surprising. Or two, he'd finally cracked. His black hole of a mind having finally overrun itself and is left gaping open…broken.

That didn't sit well in Shizuo's stomach. Letting out a frustrated sound, Shizuo went around to the front of the bench and let the back of his knees touch the edge in between Izaya's legs. He reached back until his hand found Izaya's forearm and yanked. Like a weightless doll, the informant flew upward until his left arm was synched over Shizuo's shoulder. Shizuo bent forward a little so that he could wrap his right hand around the back of the informant's thigh and hop up making him clutch onto his back like he was being given a piggy back ride, "Come on flea, work with me. Sit right up there." Without any objection, insult, or sound, Izaya brought his other leg and arm to fit snuggly against Shizuo's neck and hips. Slightly bothered by the effortless acquiescence, Shizuo frowned.

Without another word, he started walking, toting one of the most infamous men on his back like a child. After a couple blocks, said man was starting to feel like dead weight against his shoulders. He wasn't even close to heavy, no, more like his muscles had given out and his only support was Shizuo's hands and back. Grunting, Shizuo turned his head a little to see Izaya's head resting on his shoulder. The only thing he could see was a mop of black hair, the bastard must've passed out. Idiot, it's what he gets for sitting in the cold rain for who knows how long.

Letting out another snarl accompanied by an eye roll, Shizuo shifted the flea higher up on his back to get a better grip on him. He didn't speed up as he probably should've though. His apartment was still a good ten minute walk and the rain wasn't hinting at stopping. Oh well, a couple more minutes in the rain wouldn't kill him…probably. Feeling an internal debate take hold of his thoughts, the ex-bartender thought, _'fuck it'_, and eased into a light jog that was considerate to the body being jostled lightly on his shoulders. The last thing the psychotic dirt bag needed was _more _brain damage.

Soon enough, his building came into view. A few small hops and long strides later, Shizuo was kicking his door open. He would have to fix that eventually, but the idea of shuffling the flea in his hands while trying to open a freakin' door sounded like too much of a pain in the ass. He kicked the door back shut and walked straight to his bedroom.

His apartment wasn't dirty per say, just a bit neglected. Everything looked a little worn and torn from use. His apartment was pretty much just open space. You walked through the entry way and found his living room with a couch, coffee table, and TV. Behind his couch was a bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. Further back into the apartment was a small eating area to the left of the kitchen. Other than that you could turn right into a hallway with two doors. One was his bathroom and the other was his bedroom. Heading for the white door at the end of the short hall, Shizuo pushed past it and was greeted with scattered clothes and dimmed lighting. To his left was a dresser and mirror facing his all black, full sized bed. On the very left wall were two large windows with blackout shades. The only other furniture in the room was a bedside table to the left of the bed with a lamp and alarm clock. It's not that Shizuo couldn't afford to put more thought into his home; he just didn't care enough to do anything to it.

Walking over, he slid the informant around his body and laid him on the bed. That's when he remembered that he was soaking wet. Growling in annoyance, Shizuo began to undress the informant. There's no use getting him out of the rain if he just ends up sick anyway. Getting his jacket off of him was kinda hard, but everything else was easily forced off. It had taken a few minutes, but after Shizuo hung Izaya's clothes to dry in his bathroom and walked back into the bedroom, he realized something. Izaya Orihara, his lifelong enemy, was currently in his bed, naked, and he was staring. If this last hour hadn't been strange enough he probably would've launched Izaya off the damned balcony whether his currently nude state was his fault or not.

Grunting and shaking his head, because that would somehow get rid of the blood rushing to his face, he quickly threw his sheets and quilt over the flea. He had started shaking anyway. In a hurry to escape the twilight zone that his room had become, Shizuo shuffled out and collapsed onto his couch. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments thinking. What in the _hell_ was he doing? It's not like the flea and he had been acting any different until today. Izaya definitely had not seemed any crazier than usual and he hadn't made any progress on taming his temper. Maybe it was the weather. Rain makes you do crazy shit obviously.

Continuing to come up with any alternate excuse as to why he was…caring…for the flea, Shizuo fell asleep wondering if tomorrow would be different. If today had never happened…


	2. Chapter 2

Shizuo shot up off his couch when he heard the glass shatter. Without a thought, he sprinted to his room. His bed was empty, but his side table and lamp were gone. Wait what? Moving to the side he found his side table toppled over and the lamp in pieces. That's what must've woken him up. He also came across a very white Izaya blending in to his very white floor. Shizuo couldn't say he wasn't amused by the agile man face-planting, in his own house to boot.

"Oi, flea? What'er you doin' down there?"

"Nnghh…" the unusual response arose an uneasy feeling in Shizuo's stomach, "Jesus, the hell's wrong with you?" He leans down and grabs the small body underneath its arms and hoists it up. None to carefully, Shizuo proceeds to throw the shapeless mass back into the bed.

"If you can't walk why the hell did you try to get up?" As he waited for an answer that he wasn't sure he was going to get, Izaya managed to turn towards Shizuo to look the moron in the face. Shizuo was greeted by bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and white lips, "You look like shit…" Izaya still managed to throw a nasty look through his comatose-ness.

"Can you even talk?" Izaya heaved a few times as if breathing had become painful, "…I'm ok with that…" another, less effective, nasty look. "Maybe I outta call Shinra. The sooner you get out, the sooner I can go back to sleep." Shizuo, for once liking his own decision, was about to set off for the phone when Izaya moved in a rather…unusual way. He tried to lurch himself forward, maybe grab Shizuo to stop him, but ended up falling to the side catching his head on the mattress. His body following suit, and being heavier, kept on falling causing his neck to bend at a god awful angle as it slumped over, "Holy shit!" Startled by the less than human position, Shizuo quickly picked up the informant and laid him back down on the pillows, "Fuck, flea! What are you doing?!" Harsh breathing was the only reply he got.

"I'm definitely calling Shinra." Even if it was slow and less coordinated than usual, Izaya lifted his arm as frantically as he could manage to attempt to snag Shizuo's wrist. Shaking off the ice-like touch, Shizuo groaned, "What, flea?! What?!" the only response he got was an uncharacteristically panicked looking Izaya nearing hyperventilation as he struggled to communicate. After a few wasted minutes, Shizuo let out a mix between a sigh and growl of annoyance. Obviously the rat in his bed wasn't going to let him call _anybody _while he was in his current state. He wasn't sure what the hell that would be good for because if Izaya was expecting any help from Shizuo then he had some pretty damn good odds for winning a billion dollar lottery.

"Look flea, you can die here for a while I guess while I go to work, but you better be gone by the time I get back. I don't have time to deal with your pathetic ass more than once a day especially when I slept on my own damned couch because of you." Turning to grab his usual bartender uniform, Shizuo stalked out of the room to find solace in his less than spacious shower. God knows what would happen if he stayed.

Shizuo slumped his way down the lightened streets some 10 hours later. The day truly hadn't been too bad if he didn't let himself remember that he had been in need of an exterminator this morning. The clients had been easily subdued and only one idiot tried to run…he was currently in surgery for some open fractures or whatever the hell you call those things. Guy had been really freaking delicate to be a full grown man. Speaking of weak full grown men…

'_What the fuck is that…'_

A few meters ahead was a hunched over form, one hand on the wall beside him, the other clutching at his chest. The fortissimo wouldn't have thought anything of it had that damn mop of hair not been so familiar. Oh yeah, and the wobbly chicken legs.

Stopping for a rare moment of totally rational clarity, Shizuo watched the infestation of his life struggle to take just one more step towards his direction. He judged that he was still 15 minutes from his apartment, so either the flea infected his house all day or he was so damn slow that he had to pause to die, er rest, in an alleyway. Knowing the little rat he probably had to walk around the city the hard way. The bartender was more than well aware of all the people who would strangle the vulnerable informant in their grasps…probably for a couple of days if he lived long enough.

With his thoughts quieting after that, Shizuo not entirely sure how he felt about the prospects of the deserving man being tortured, he watched as a shaky step of the flea's didn't quite stabilize him causing his legs to give out and his body to slide down the wall into a pitiful heap on the sidewalk. Momentarily startled by his sudden drop, a woman paused, confusion flying over her face. She took a tentative step back towards the crumpled form with a hand extended. Shizuo could tell she began talking, crouching lower to make sure the wretch heard her. This caught the attention of another passerby. A business man or office worker perhaps if his tan suit and black leather briefcase said anything. He hesitantly approached the two as well, Izaya still not have responded to the woman. Letting out a sigh that many around him took as an inhuman growl, Shizuo trenched forward not entirely conscious of the decision he was making.

Waltzing straight up to the trio, Shizuo didn't say a word as he grabbed the flea by the arm and flung him over his shoulder like a ragdoll, "This is getting really fucking old, flea." He wasn't sure if the other had heard him, but something about the way his breathing hitched in its heaving tempo told him the lightweight was still conscious. Turning towards the attention the two had caught, Shizuo didn't restrain the force of his glare causing the concerned citizens to take a step back, "He's fine, keep walkin'." All too eager to comply, the small crowd near instantaneously dispersed leaving the fortissimo to carry his charge through a sea of confused stares and glances. Some of the smarter, more aware people kept their gaze down or any other place that wasn't occupied by the bodyguard and his small burden.

'_Damn…'_ At this rate someone less than pleasant was going to see them and then the whole freaking city was going to know what squatter was burrowing behind his door. Realizing that this whole surreal turn of events was gonna be one huge fucking pain in the ass in the near future, Shizuo took a sharp turn down an alleyway to continue on his way home. It was better to weave around and away from the most crowded areas of the streets. Some wouldn't have thought he'd think of it, but the brutish, seemingly tactless man knew that he might as well have been flaunting the news that he had Izaya and he wasn't killing him. God knows what the dirty informant's enemies would think of that. Feeling his mood sour even more by noticing how this situation just _looked_ to others, Shizuo's pace picked up; a new, simmering rage fueling his steps. His little bastard of an arch enemy was in for a rude fucking awakening when he woke up and he was getting it whether he was ready or not.


End file.
